H, picks up phone and dials his work number.
D, answers: "Hello Fragrant WorkPlace."
H: "Do we have a hacksaw?"
D: silence.
H: "So, do we have a hacksaw?"
D: "Yeeessss. It's in the toolbox."
H: "Ok, bye."
D: "Wait. Wait. "
H: silence.
D: "What do you need the hack saw for?"
H: "To hack something."
D: "Can't it wait till I get home?"
H: "Nope. Gotta do it now."
D: "Do what?"
H: "Hack off that rusty-shower-thing. I got a new one."
D: "Use the red-handled wire cutters."
H: "Didn't work. Gonna use that hack saw. Gotta go. Bye"
D: "Wait. Wa. . ."
Click.
It's a crap excuse for a hack saw. Blade doesn't stay in place. But it was better than the pruning saw, the wire strippers, the exacto knife, and the wire cutters. I have defeated the rusting-shower-thing.
There's the phone.
H: picking up the phone but saying nothing as an attempt to foil the telemarketers
D: "Hello. Hello. Hello."
H: "Oh hi"
D: "So how many fingers do you have?"
H: "Enough. Why?"
D: "Weeelll. The line was busy. And I thought maybe you'd had to call emergency and then left the phone off the hook."
H: "But why."
D: "The hack saw. You. Teetering on the edge of the tub. Whack. Slip. Blood."
H: "I used a chair."
D: "Okaaaay."
H: "That's a crap hack saw. And you need a new blade."
D: "Okaaay. I'll see you later."
H: "Yup. Bye."
You know, since he's already imagining blood-spattered bathrooms, this may not be a good time to recommend Haddon's Spot of Bother which I finished yesterday even though I did have to close my eyes for a bit in the middle.
Heather